


Lazing on a Friday Afternoon

by flammable_grimm_pitch



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Godfather Remus, Godfather Sirius, Inspired by Art, Kid Fic, M/M, Napping, Raising Harry Potter, Tumblr Prompt, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:55:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27767869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flammable_grimm_pitch/pseuds/flammable_grimm_pitch
Summary: Remus comes home to a disaster of a house, but his mood softens when he finds Sirius and Harry asleep upstairs.
Relationships: Sirius Black & Remus Lupin & Harry Potter, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 2
Kudos: 119





	Lazing on a Friday Afternoon

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a really cute piece of art by Tumblr user carolsdrawing --> https://flammable-grimm-pitch.tumblr.com/post/636079736234360832/harry-and-sirius-taking-an-afternoon-nap.

A plastic toy scrapes against the floor as Remus pushes through the front door. The entryway is littered with building blocks and action figures, creating an obstacle course for him to navigate. Being cautious as to where he places his cane, Remus walks through the melee of the house. It’s _always_ like this when he leaves Sirius home alone with their godson. The man doesn’t understand the concept of tidying things up before taking more out.

“Padfoot?” Remus calls out, ducking his head into the kitchen to see if his boys are perhaps preparing an afternoon snack. A jar of peanut butter (lid off, of course) and two apple cores sit out the countertop, and on the small dining table, the Lupins’ scrawny old cat is lapping at a puddle of spilt milk. 

All of the cushions from the armchair and sofa, plus every blanket and afghan in the house have been commandeered for the construction of an epic blanket fort in the sitting room, complete with twinkle lights and a table lamp. The telly is still on, an episode of _Rainbow_ playing on low volume. Sirius doesn’t care much for the Muggle “contraption”, but Harry loves the puppet characters featured in many of the children’s programs, and Remus refuses to miss an episode of _Coronation Street_ if it isn’t absolutely necessary. 

With a fond sigh, Remus pulls his wand from the pocket within his cardigan and sets to work tidying up. The house isn’t exactly arranged the way he’d like it to be, but that’s just a fact of life when you have a toddler. He’d purchased a set of stacking bins for all of Harry’s toys, but they were quickly running out of space with Sirius’ frequent purchases. The silly man insists on having all the best Muggle and magic playthings for the boy, completely ignoring practicalities such as ‘budgeting’ and ‘limited space’. At least they can afford it. 

There isn’t really any need for Remus to work, but he finds purpose and meaning in his teaching position at the Muggle secondary school down the street from their house. His students enjoy the interactive lessons he teaches, and he quite enjoys being able to talk to actual adults once in a while — Padfoot is more child than man most days. The neighbours already think it strange enough for two young men to be living together and raising a child; for neither of them to work would be even more of an oddity. 

Remus’ hips have been aching something fierce for the last few moons, so he ascends the stairs carefully, holding tight to the railing with one hand and clutching his cane in the other. He is (very) slowly coming to terms with being in his early twenties and needing an assistive device to walk. Harry never seems to mind, and his students know better than to ask questions, but he still holds onto an acute sense of shame at being unable to chase the toddler around the back garden. 

“Pads?” He repeats. Still no answer. _Perhaps they’ve gone out for ice cream…_

The hardwood of the house’s second level creaks as he hobbles along, poking his nose into each room. The bathtub is half-filled, and the room’s tiled floor has become a lake. An overturned toy boat rests in the middle of the bathroom, a casualty of the emergency bath Sirius must have been forced to run. A series of tiny wet footprints leads from the bathroom to the toddler’s bedroom, where his towel lies in a soft heap, the antlered hood visible from where Remus stands. 

It looks as though a bomb’s gone off in the boy’s room. Half the books on the shelf are on the floor, the chest of drawers has been emptied into a pile as tall as Harry, and the sheets and blankets have been torn off the bed (for the blanket fort, of course). 

“It’s not even laundry day,” Remus grumbles to himself, waving his wand so that the clothes fold themselves and stack neatly in their drawers, and the books slide back into place on the shelf. 

As he turns around, he hears a loud snort from the direction of his and Sirius’ bedroom. _Ah-hah!_ Remus finds the door thrown wide open, and like every other room in the house, the place is littered with toys: a teddy bear, a plushie octopus, a tricycle — all favourites of Harry’s. Sprawled out atop the crumpled bedsheets are his two snoozing boys, tuckered out from a hard day of play. 

Sirius’ singlet is rucked up a bit where his hand rests on his belly, exposing a strip of brown skin and the sharp V of his hip, one of Remus’ favourite places to kiss when he and Sirius are in bed together. The man’s silky black hair is fanned out across his pillow, and his mouth is gaping wide enough that if Remus had his camera handy, he might try to put a sweet on his tongue and take a photo of the amusing scene. 

His wand rests on the mattress, his fingertips just touching its thick wooden grip. Remus sets it on the nightstand to prevent any accidents. Harry may only be a few months past two, but he could certainly wreak havoc if it were to wind up in his chubby little hands. 

Harry is dressed in an orange t-shirt and cloth nappy, his legs and feet unrestricted by socks or tiny trousers. Sirius, too, liked to walk around the house in his pants on occasion, which is where their godson probably picked up the habit. Between the two sleeping figures lies a little cardboard book with textured recreations of a different magical creature on each page — a unicorn with a sparkly sequinned horn, a dragon with velvety wings. It had been a gift from Hagrid for the boy’s last birthday. 

As he walks around to the side of the bed where Sirius is laid out, Remus accidentally kicks a battery-operated Muggle toy that makes noise when buttons are pressed, causing the sound of a crowing rooster to ring out in the room. He grits his teeth and winces, hoping he hasn’t woken Harry. The toddler is a proper nightmare if he misses either of his naps. 

“Huh—Rem?” Sirius yawns, blinking as he regains consciousness. 

“Sorry, love,” Remus apologizes, seating himself on the edge of the mattress and setting a hand against Sirius’ broad chest. “Just got home from work.” 

“Haz really missed you today,” the dark-haired man mumbles, resting his hand atop Remus’. “Asked after you all morning, and had a fit when I said you wouldn’t be home for lunch. Dumped an entire bowl of alphabetti on his head in protest.” 

“Thus, the bath,” Remus chuckles softly. “So, long day, then?” 

“Glad it’s Friday.” Sirius groans, shuffling over a bit so that Remus can lie down beside him. The taller man lifts his sore legs up onto the bed and buries his face in Sirius’ neck, breathes in the fruity scent of kid’s bubble bath clinging to his husband’s skin. 

Remus makes no mention of the disaster that is their house, preferring to live by a word of advice his father gave him before he died: “Don’t sweat the small stuff.” He is of the opinion that so long as the three of them are safe, fed, and together, nothing else matters. The couple whisper back and forth, trading stories from the day until a tiny voice pipes up on the other side of the bed. 

“Weemus?” Harry asks sleepily. “Dat you?” 

“‘Ow do, Haz?” Remus greets him, lifting his head up so he can see the small boy over Sirius’ shoulder. 

The toddler scrambles to his knees and crawls across the bed, up and over his godfather’s body so that he’s snuggled between them both. “Weemus, why you not home t’day?” He wonders, reaching up and running his little fingers over the shiny silver scar that runs across the bridge of Remus’ nose. 

“Had to go to school, remember?” Remus prompts, tapping Harry’s forehead. He avoids the lightning bolt over his left eye, choosing instead to press his fingers to the boy’s temple. Harry’s eyebrows furrow intensely as he thinks about this. 

“School t’morrow?” 

“Nope, just you, me and Padfoot tomorrow,” Remus promises, pulling Harry down for a hug. Sirius tickles Harry’s round belly, bringing the boy to screeching laughter in seconds. Remus laughs, too, and allows the stresses of his day, of their life, to fade from his mind.


End file.
